


A Memory's Lament

by KaliJoKu (Kalikuks)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4570749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalikuks/pseuds/KaliJoKu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mink takes Koujaku to see his village.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Memory's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> An Anon on Tumblr said they'd love to see more MinKou Comfort fics and I wrote this in response. Title comes from a song by the same title by Rueben and the Dark. This work is Un Beta'd, so mistakes may crop up.

Koujaku had an inkling he knew what day it was. He could hear the answer in the heavy silence that settled over Mink, the way the other man’s steps seemed heavier when he traversed the cabin as they went about their morning routines.

Only today he wasn't heading to work. Neither was Koujaku.

Mink had woken him up and had told him he’d called into work for both of them, telling their respective bosses that something personal had come up. Which wasn't entirely a falsehood. Mink had expressed the desire to show Koujaku something today, and if the way he’d said it or the sadness underlaying his tone was anything to go by, it was a very personal matter indeed. 

The more the morning went on the more Koujaku was certain his suspicions about the date was truth. Mink had never been this solemn or quiet, even in the short days he’d known him as the fearsome Rib Leader during the whole Platinum Jail situation. And the mood was contagious, as Koujaku didn't even fuss about the placement of feathers or braids in his hair as he usually did when Mink did his hair. Even Beni and Huracan were without their daily morning feud. 

Only after his hair had been decorated did Mink take him by his hand, leading him through the cabin and out into the forest surrounding their home. He and Mink walked side by side in complete silence down a rarely used path, the solemnity that had permeated the cabin had followed them out the door and ghosted alongside them. 

Eventually a clearing was reached. 

“…Your village.” Koujaku’s voice was soft as he spoke, gaze settling on the charred bones of the last standing structure. 

Beside him Mink was still, his fingers twined with Koujaku’s just as they had been since they left the cabin, only now the grip was tight. Not painfully so, but Koujaku recognized it as the grasp of a man desperate for comfort. He squeezed Mink’s hand in turn, lifting his eyes off the rubble and remains before him to meet Mink’s gaze. 

Mink returned his gaze briefly, the pain hidden in his eyes speaking volumes where his expressionless mask didn’t. Koujaku couldn't mention it, knew Mink didn't desire to talk just yet or he would have started already. All he could do was follow Mink as he stepped further into the ghost of his village. 

Mink only began to speak then, telling Koujaku tales of those who once walked the faded paths before this place was in left in ruins. Mink’s voice was distant, and Koujaku wondered briefly as he listened if his grip on Mink’s hand was the only thing anchoring him to the present. 

The deeper into the village they went the heavier with sadness Mink became. Koujaku could sense it was coming to a head as they neared the other side of the village, could sense the inevitable break when the graveyard came into view. It was there that they stopped in their tracks.

“My family is buried here,” Mink’s voice was little more than a waver, there in that deathly still clearing, “my friends, neighbours… The ones I could find, at least.” 

The fact that there were some that would never be returned to their homeland at all didn't need to be said.

Koujaku only tightened his grip on Mink’s hand, if only to offer to anchor him further, a silent reassurance of his presence at his side. Mink only continued to speak. 

He spoke of his mother, of his father, and their end. Of Neighbours that had fought to protect their loved ones with anything and everything they could. Spoke of the night he too died as he was dragged away from his home.

Lastly, he spoke of his sister.

“I failed her, Red.” Mink’s grip on his hand was slipping, “They tore her out of my arms, after all the times growing up I told her I would protect her from monsters, I couldn’t…I-I…”

The levee broke then, and Koujaku let Mink’s hand slip from his, only to pull the other man to him. He buried his face in Mink’s neck, fingers finding their way to soothingly run through his hair. Koujaku pressed a kiss to Mink’s temple in response to the first sob to wrack his lover’s form.

It was odd to say the least, how Koujaku had always considered Mink to be his rock, his foundation when the nightmares wouldn't leave him or the memory was too vivid. In those passing moments he would have never thought their roles would ever reverse. That Mink, for all the cold stone he seemed to be carved from, could tremble and shake like a leaf left to the wind’s mercy. 

But, at the end of the day, Mink was only human too.

So, Koujaku would be Mink’s rock in turn, whenever he needed, and with that thought he held Mink tighter. He hummed tunelessly, much like his mother used to do when he was little, hoping the sound would too offer comfort. 

Briefly, as Mink’s shudders slowed and his breathing started to even out, Koujaku wondered if Mink had even let himself mourn before he’d thrown himself into his vengeance. 

He didn’t entertain the thought too much, not when Mink finally raised his head to press his forehead to Koujaku’s. They let the moment pass in silence between them, foreheads pressed together and Koujaku’s hands having come up to cradle Mink’s face, thumbs swiping gently at the tear tracks left as evidence of Mink’s sorrow. 

Eventually Mink broke the contact, lifting his head to brush his lips against Koujaku’s forehead, his gratitude evident in the simple gesture. Koujaku wanted to tell him it was alright, to offer more words of comfort and love but felt that doing so in that moment would be out of place. So he did what felt right instead, and offered Mink his hand once again. 

Their fingers twined once more, Mink’s thumb rubbing Koujaku’s hand in a further show of his thankfulness. Slowly they made their way back across the village, stopping at the edge to let Mink glance backward one last time into that clearing before they set off down the path towards the home they’d made together.

No doubt, they would speak further on this, when Mink decided to. Koujaku wouldn't press him to, seeing as Mink had lead him out here of his own accord, to share his past with him of his own volition. Mink would open up to Koujaku again when he was ready.

And Koujaku would be there for him when he did.

Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Mink never seems to cry so I made him, and by extension myself (because emotions), cry.


End file.
